What Dreams May Come
by captdeb
Summary: Has Beckett's conscience driven him over the edge, or is something more sinister afoot? Carson's friends race to save his job, his reputation, and his life. Spoilers through season 2's Michael. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Carson was sitting on the low stone wall that encircled the cottage he'd grown up in. The wind was brisk, bringing color to his cheeks and driving the rain sideways to settle into his thick wool jumper. Another might have found the weather unpleasant, best experienced from the other side of a windowpane, but to Carson it was no different than the rolling green hills and deep lochs. It was raw and wild, and it was home. He turned his face into the wind, eyes closed against the cold rain.

"Look at you, sitting out in the weather like a daftie! What'll the neighbors think?"

He smiled and opened his eyes. "Hullo, Mum." Ina Beckett was wrapped tight in her raincoat, peering at him through rain-streaked glasses from under her hood. She stepped up behind him and ran a fond hand over his wet hair.

"What am I to do with you, eh? You're all foosty."

"Aye," he agreed, taking a deep breath. He was more content than he'd ever been in his life and was having trouble remembering why he'd ever seen fit to leave.

"Carson, lad," his mother said, sitting beside him on the wall, "we need to talk, and now's as good a time as any."

Something in her voice pulled his attention away from the scenery. He turned to her and took her thin hand in his. "What is it, Mum?"

"My wee man," she murmured, looking into his face as though seeing the child he'd once been. "You know I've always been proud of you. You're a good man, you've always tried to do right by others. Lately, though…Carson, you've strayed from your path. I don't know you anymore."

He frowned. "Mum, what d'ye mean?"

"The Pegasus Galaxy, love. It's changed you. You've made some bad decisions, and people have suffered because of it."

"No, Mum," he argued, but Ina stopped him with a gentle hand against his chest.

"Carson, I love you, always will, but I didn't raise you to shirk responsibility for your actions."

"You don't understand how it's been. There's no black or white. Every choice is the lesser of two evils. I've done the best I can, Mum."

"I know, love, I know," she soothed, taking him into her arms. "I know you didn't mean for anyone to get hurt." He shook his head against her shoulder. "You never do, do you? But you're careless with your research. You forget that your work has the power to harm, the power to kill." She pulled him upright, framing his face with her hands and forcing him to look at her. "You know it's true."

"Don't," he begged, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears threatening to fall. His mother, however, was relentless.

"That lovely Perna, all those other people on Hoff. Poor Elia, and nearly Major Sheppard as well. And now that poor soldier, all dead because you didn't think of the consequences of your work. And that's not even including the ones who died because you couldn't help them. Those poor people with that nanovirus!"

"That wasn't my fault!" he wailed.

"They needed you, and you weren't good enough."

"Mum!" Carson was sobbing now, his face still held firmly in her cool hands.

"I know you didn't mean it," Ina repeated, "but it happened all the same. And you've got to be a man and make amends."

"I don't know how," he wept. "I don't know how to make it right."

Ina pulled him down and kissed his forehead. She smiled lovingly and brushed away his tears with her thumbs. "Don't worry, love," she said tenderly. "Your old mum knows what to do."

She rose and held out her hand. Carson stood stiffly and took it, sniffling and following her up the hillside.

The rain had stopped by the time they crested the hill, and a rainbow arced through the misty sky. Carson looked down at the sheer drop before his feet and felt his anguish lift away and dissolve. Ina beamed at him proudly. "I knew you'd do the right thing, Carson. You've always made me proud. I love you, wee man."

"I love you too, Mum."

SGA

Rodney McKay yawned and simultaneously rubbed his neck and a sore muscle in his lower back. He'd lost track of time, again, and spent another late night bent over his laptop. He debated stopping by the infirmary for an analgesic, but what he really wanted most was a quick sandwich and a face-down collapse onto his prescription mattress. His mind still absorbed in the data he'd been reviewing, he walked several meters past the doorway before registering what he'd seen. He stopped, paused with a frown and walked back.

The door led to one of Atlantis' many balconies. Rodney stepped out carefully, rendered nearly speechless by what he was seeing.

Carson Beckett, barefoot and dressed in his bedclothes, was standing _on the balcony railing, _staring out over the ocean.

Rodney swallowed hard and called, "Carson?" At the sound of his voice, the doctor began to turn. "No, don't move!" Rodney shouted, his heart pounding in his chest. "Just, just hold still. I'm coming over, okay? You're probably sleepwalking, right? So I'm just gonna help you down, and take you back to bed, and tomorrow I'm going to rip you a new one for scaring the crap out of me!"

Rodney had hardly taken a step when Carson glanced over his shoulder, smiled beatifically, and stepped off the railing into space.


	2. Chapter 2

Carson fell and fell and fell.

Wind rushed by, flapping his T-shirt and sleep pants, blowing the damp, salty air into his eyes. But he could still see his mother's face before him, beaming with pride and unqualified love.

Carson smiled and fell some more.

He hit feet-first. Pain shot up his legs and spine as though he'd hit concrete instead of water. The air was driven from his lungs in a cloud of bubbles that quickly grew distant as his velocity carried him down. He sank like a stone for a small eternity.

His animal instinct for survival abruptly kicked in and he clawed frantically at the water that surrounded him. Above him, so far above him, he could see the lights of Atlantis and he struggled, lungs burning, to reach the distant surface. His view was suddenly blocked as Mum appeared before him again, glasses gone, her graying hair floating in a nimbus around her smiling face. _Help me!_ he thought, reaching out his hands. She grasped his forearms and for a split second he knew relief.

Her icy grip tightened until it was painful, and she pulled him down. Carson thrashed and struggled but couldn't break free.

Ina's smile was gone, replaced by a fearsome snarl. The color rushed from her face until her skin was waxy white. Her eyes bled from blue to yellow. Slits formed on her cheekbones and her hair changed and grew, coiling serpentine and white around her head.

Carson gasped. Water flooded into his lungs, and the Wraith that had been his mother laughed.

SGA

Precious seconds ticked by while Rodney stood transfixed, gaping in horror at the empty space where his friend had stood an instant before. His mental and physical paralyses broke at the same time, and he slapped his radio even as his feet carried him to the railing. "Command, patch me through to the Daedalus, now!"

He waited impatiently, aware that every beat of his pounding heart was one second less that Carson had to live. Below him the dark waters were utterly still.

"Dr. McKay, this is Hermiod."

"Oh thank God. We have a man overboard off the east side of the city. I need you to scan the water for life signs, now!"

"Scanning," the Asgard replied.

"Come on, come on," Rodney muttered, pacing a tight circle.

"I have him," the alien announced. "I'm beaming him directly to the ship's infirmary."

"I'm on my way," Rodney snapped, turning and hitting the corridor at a dead run. He smacked his radio again. "Elizabeth, this is Rodney."

It took a moment before Weir's groggy voice responded. "Rodney, do you know what time it is?"

"No, and I don't care. I need you to meet me in the Daedalus' sickbay."

"What? Why?"

Rodney stumbled, stopped, and leaned against the wall, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Carson just tried to kill himself," he said, barely able to say it. "He may have succeeded."


	3. Chapter 3

Rodney ran into Elizabeth – almost literally – at the last junction before the dock where the Daedalus was berthed. As they charged down the final corridor, Rodney related his experience on the balcony. "But something wasn't right about him," he panted. "He looked at me, but not AT me, more like through me. I'm not sure he knew I was there, or even where he was."

Elizabeth nodded to the airmen guarding the ship's entrance as they rushed past. "Let's hope he gets the chance to explain it to us."

Sickbay was a scene of organized chaos. Caldwell stood just inside the door, out of the way of the medical personnel that darted about, their soft-soled shoes squeaking on the wet floor. Rodney noted absently that the colonel was impeccably dressed in pressed BDUs despite the late hour.

"Colonel," Elizabeth nodded, her eyes seeking Carson's familiar form through the swarm of medics surrounding him.

"Dr. Weir. Can you tell me what happened?"

Elizabeth began to repeat the story, but Rodney tuned them out and inched closer to the bed. His foot nudged something and he looked down. Carson's T-shirt, sodden and sliced to ribbons, lay discarded in a puddle on the floor. He stared at it for a moment before picking it up and spreading the gray scrap of fabric between his hands. Faded black letters read "University of Glasgow." His physicist's mind observed the tears in the shirt, ignoring the clean cuts made by the nurses' scissors and studying the more ragged, uneven slices he knew had been caused by wind shear. Rodney estimated the distance between the balcony and the water's surface, figured in the acceleration of gravity at nine meters per second per second and determined that Carson would have been moving at nearly sixteen kilometers per hour when he hit the water. The effects of sudden deceleration on the human body…God, Carson…

The voices Rodney had been resolutely _not_ listening to changed in tone, and he tuned in. "We've got him back," one of the voices said. "I want a full set of CT scans, now. Ringers wide open and continue the O2, and let's get his body temperature up. Move, people." Rodney was pushed aside none too gently and flattened himself against the wall, still clutching the soaked shirt. He kept his eyes on it when the gurney rolled rapidly past him.

A hand touched his arm and he shivered. "Rodney," Elizabeth said, "It looks like it could be a while. We're going to wait in Colonel Caldwell's office for news." Rodney let himself be led out of the waterlogged sickbay, the hated laws of physics still spitting out worst-case scenarios in his mind.

He snapped out of it abruptly when a hot mug was pressed into his hand. Looking around, he found himself sitting at a conference table, Elizabeth's concerned gaze boring into him. He sighed and wiped his hand over his face, giving himself a mental shake. "I'm okay," he muttered. "Elizabeth, we have to figure out what happened."

"I've radioed Colonel Sheppard. He's taking a team to Carson's quarters to look for anything out of the ordinary."

Caldwell leaned forward and folded his hands on the tabletop. "Just what is it you're hoping to find?"

Rodney jumped up and began pacing. "Something to explain Carson's behavior. Obviously, some outside influence was at work, here." He snapped his fingers, turning and pointing to Weir. "Make sure you tell Sheppard to check for delivery systems for mind-altering substances. He should also do a sweep for electronic devices – we may be talking about subliminal messages."

"Doctor McKay," Caldwell said, "Are you familiar with Occam's Razor?"

"You know, I must still be asleep and having some bizarre dream, because I couldn't possibly be hearing some knuckle-dragging military Neanderthal presuming to lecture me on scientific principles! Tell me, Colonel, how did you come by your vast knowledge of methodological reductionism?"

"What I'm trying to say is –"

"Don't say anything!" Rodney snapped. "All you're doing is confirming your ignorance, not only of science but of the Pegasus Galaxy. Do you honestly think that a principle advocating the simplest explanation as the most likely can possibly apply in a galaxy populated by alien glam-rock posers that suck out your life with their hands? The sheer idiocy astounds me! God, the U.S. military actually promoted you?"

"Rodney, that's enough." Weir's face was tight.

He whirled on her, feeling his muscles tremble through sheer rage. "No, Elizabeth, it is NOT enough. There's no way Carson would jump off a damned balcony unless he was being influenced in some way. The man is my friend. I know him as well as anyone in Atlantis. He was definitely not suicidal, and I won't allow anyone, including him," he shouted, jerking a thumb at Caldwell, "to spread rumors to the contrary."

Caldwell's expression was quietly thunderous. "We don't know what happened," he grated out. "The only evidence we have so far is what you reported seeing with your own two eyes. Doctor Beckett wasn't pushed or thrown off that balcony. He stepped off under his own power. And until we get further information, we have no choice but to proceed under the obvious assumption."

Rodney's jaw hurt from being clenched so tightly. "Your compassion amazes me," he spat.

Caldwell cocked his head. "I must be dreaming," he drawled. "I couldn't possibly be receiving a lecture on compassion from Rodney McKay."

McKay's face turned purple, and he opened his mouth to fire the next salvo. Elizabeth Weir rose to her feet, thumping her palms on the table. "That's enough! None of this is helping Carson, or getting us any closer to an answer. Now, my most immediate concern is for Carson's well being, and by that I mean both physical and emotional. If it isn't yours, it damn well should be."

Rodney took a deep breath and sank into his chair. Caldwell leaned back, his eyes narrowed.

They waited in silence for the doctor.


	4. Chapter 4

Rodney took an instant dislike to Lt. Colonel Dennis Byrd, M.D. Maybe it was the way he delivered his report standing at attention in front of Caldwell, totally ignoring Rodney and Weir. Maybe it was his appearance, the silver crew cut and hard blue eyes that just screamed stick-up-the-ass military. But mostly it was the impersonal way he spoke about his patient, as though he really didn't care about Carson at all.

"Sir," Byrd began, staring at a spot on the wall over Caldwell's shoulder. "The patient arrived in sickbay with no pulse or respiration. I was able to restore both within approximately ninety seconds. At that time, the patient expelled a quantity of seawater. I'm optimistic that we restored oxygen to the brain before any permanent damage could take place, but I won't be able to confirm this until the patient regains consciousness."

"The patient's name is Carson Beckett," Rodney cut in. "Doctor Beckett, to you."

Byrd turned his flinty stare on Rodney, and Elizabeth spoke up before another confrontation arose. "Doctor, would you please bottom-line this for us? What are his injuries, and what's his prognosis?"

Byrd glanced at Caldwell, who nodded. The doctor settled into a parade rest stance and directed his comments to the civilians. "Doctor Beckett," he said, shooting a look at Rodney, "was very fortunate. He apparently struck the water feet first. If he had landed horizontally, he'd most likely be dead."

Weir frowned in confusion. "What difference does that make?"

Rodney knew this part well enough – it was all he'd been able to think about since watching Carson's fall. "A falling body picks up velocity. The longer the fall, the faster the object moves. Carson was probably falling at a rate of about sixteen kilometers an hour when he struck the water. Hitting feet first means you continue to move downward and the force of impact is dispersed. But if you're horizontal, you decelerate from sixteen kph to zero in about six inches. Think of it as a massive, fatal belly flop."

Byrd nodded. "In cases like that, the body stops, but the internal organs continue to drop. Organs and vessels lacerate, ribs splinter and puncture soft tissue. The victim dies from massive internal injuries, just as if they'd been hit by a car. That's assuming they don't drown first."

Swallowing thickly and looking a little green, Elizabeth folded her hands in front of her to hide their trembling. "But Carson doesn't have these injuries?"

"No ma'am. He has a fractured left heel and two stress fractures in his right leg. X-rays also show small compression fractures in his thoracic spine."

It was Rodney's turn to gulp. "His spine? Is he…will he be able to—"

"At this point there is no evidence of paralysis. I won't be able to fully assess the damage until the patient is awake and responsive."

Caldwell, who had been listening silently from his end of the table, leaned back in his chair. "Anything else, Doctor?"

"I'm concerned about aspiration pneumonia, sir. I've got him on oxygen and broad-spectrum antibiotics to try and head it off, but it's likely he'll experience respiratory complications at some point in his recovery."

"Thank you, Doctor." Caldwell turned his gaze to Weir and McKay. "Any questions?"

"Just one," Rodney said. "When can he be moved?"

Byrd frowned. "Moved? To where?"

"To Atlantis. To his own infirmary," McKay answered, not bothering to hide his exasperation.

"I'm not sure what the point would be. We'd only have to move him back aboard before we depart for Earth, and that's only two days away."

Elizabeth and Rodney exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about?" Rodney asked. "Carson's not going back to Earth with you. He's ours, and we're keeping him."

Byrd's back stiffened as his posture became formal once more. "Sir," he addressed Caldwell. "Doctor Beckett will need extensive physical therapy during his recuperation. Given the nature of his injuries and the manner in which he received them, it's my professional opinion that he is unfit for duty as CMO of Atlantis. I'm officially recommending that he be returned to Earth for psychological evaluation and treatment."


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth Weir stood and drew herself up to her full height, which was still well short of Byrd's six feet-plus. "Doctor," she said, her voice positively glacial, "your recommendation is duly noted. However, as I'm sure you're aware, you have no authority over the civilians in Atlantis. Carson was my first choice for CMO when we began this expedition, and he remains my first choice. If and when his fitness to fulfill that office comes into question, I will be the one to make that decision. Is that understood?" Byrd's jaw tightened, but he dipped his head in a sharp, short nod. Elizabeth turned her freezing gaze to Caldwell, who raised his hands palms-out.

"No argument from me," he said mildly. "Colonel, can Dr. Beckett be safely moved to Atlantis' infirmary?"

Looking vaguely like he'd just bitten into a lemon, Byrd nodded again. "With the proper precautions, yes."

"I'll call Dr. Ruiz, Carson's second in command, and have her come aboard with a team," Elizabeth said. "You can brief her on his condition before the move. Now, we'd like to see our friend, so if you don't mind, we'll wait for our people in sickbay." She looked at the military doctor expectantly. Behind her, Rodney wanted to cheer but contented himself with an especially obnoxious grin.

Caldwell nodded and made a small motion with his hand. Byrd snapped his heels together and stalked from the room. Shooting Rodney a secret amused smirk, Weir fell in behind the lieutenant colonel, keeping her steps confident but leisurely. Byrd was forced to slow down, then stop and wait for them to catch up. Rodney reminded himself, not for the first time, to stay on Elizabeth's good side.

SGA

The large, nearly empty room echoed with the sound of metal on metal. Carolyn Biro stood at a metal table, a white sheet puddled around her feet. Now and then she straightened from the body before her, dropping instruments black with blood on a nearby tray.

As he drew nearer, padding silently on sneakered feet, he noticed she was singing under her breath, the same three off-key words. "Good day, sunshine. Good day, sunshine." She picked up a scalpel and started to lean forward, only to pause when she noticed him approaching. "Ah, Carson," she said cheerily, slicing Perna's torso open from throat to navel. "Come to see the fruits of your labor?"

He took a step back only to bump up against another table. He spun around and was faced with a still, sheet-draped form. Almost against his will, his hand reached out and pulled back the cover. Elia's blue-scaled face gazed sightlessly up at him with its slit-pupil eyes.

Where there had been empty space only moments before, there were now hundreds, _thousands_ of stainless steel tables, each burdened with a sheet-covered form. He pivoted, his mouth hanging open in horror and shock. The bodies stretched out as far as he could see – his victims, gathered there in silent condemnation.

Doctor Biro was still singing "Good Day, Sunshine" and wielding her scalpel. Perna's organs splattered wetly as they were dropped on the floor. "You sure keep me busy, boss," she grinned. "You know, I've always thought 'first, do no harm' was a crock anyway."

He squeezed his eyes shut, as sickened by his handiwork as he was by her cheerful butchery. When he next opened his eyes, Biro was standing before him in bloodstained scrubs, holding her scalpel in one gloved hand.

Except it wasn't Biro.

"I'm very disappointed in you, dear," his mother said. She slashed at him viciously with the scalpel.

His vision filled with red.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Sorry for the delay, thanks for your patience!_

Doctor Carmen Ruiz strode briskly through the corridors of Atlantis, determined not to run. Carson was stable and not in any immediate danger, according to Doctor Weir. She glanced over her shoulder at Rick Baker. The young nurse, by nature energetic and cheerful, was grim and anxious as he followed her down the hall. Carmen wondered what he was thinking – was he recalling the catalogue of injuries Weir had reported, running through treatment protocols? Or was he struggling with the thought of his CMO jumping off a balcony and falling, falling, falling through the night? She wished she had the words to reassure Rick, but her own thoughts were swirling like the inky water that had nearly claimed Carson's life.

They didn't slow their pace as they transitioned from the city to the Daedalus, moving purposefully through the ship towards sickbay. They were an entire corridor away when they started to hear the shouting.

It was McKay, of course. Whenever there was shouting going on in the Pegasus galaxy, chances were good that the temperamental astrophysicist was involved. This time, however, he had good cause.

Carson's heart monitor was beeping at an alarming rate. His face was pale under a sheen of sweat, making the limp hair clinging to his forehead seem that much darker. A condensation-fogged oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, and his eyes were screwed shut, brow drawn down in a frown. Both legs were elevated on pillows, packed with ice and strapped loosely in braces.

He wasn't awake, but he was struggling against the soft restraints that bound his wrists to the bed frame. McKay was standing toe to toe with a short-haired officer Carmen had never seen, demanding to know why his friend was tied up like a criminal.

"It's protocol, Doctor," the stranger responded heatedly. "It's also for his own protection, especially now that he's agitated. I don't want to give him a sedative and risk depressing his respiratory system."

"So you're just gonna leave him like this?" Rodney made a disgusted noise and pushed his way past a nurse, taking up a position at Carson's side and covering one tightly clenched fist with his hand. "Carson, can you hear me? I need you to calm down, buddy. Come on, Carson, it's okay."

Carmen nodded to Doctor Weir and pushed through the small knot of medical personnel gathered around the bed. Running her gaze over the monitors, she said "Good, Doctor McKay, keep talking to him. His heart rate's coming down. Where's his chart?" A file appeared in her hand and she flipped it open. "He hasn't had any pain meds?"

The man with the crew cut shot McKay a sour look. "I was about to order them when Doctor McKay threw his tantrum."

"Let's get them on board, please. We'll wait a few minutes before we move him to make sure he's comfortable."

McKay beckoned from his place by Carson's head. "He's waking up."

Carmen leaned over her boss, noting the sliver of blue showing beneath his heavy lids. Carding a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, she called his name. "Come on, Carson, wake up for me."

Beckett's eyes opened a little more and lazily followed her voice. His jaw worked silently for a moment before one word slipped from his parched lips. "Mum?"

The plaintive note in his voice was heartbreaking. "No, Carson, it's Carmen. Do you know where you are?"

His eyes slid closed. "'Firm'ry?" The pain meds abruptly kicked in, and he fell asleep without waiting to see if he'd guessed correctly. Carmen gave the tousled hair a final brush with her fingers and straightened.

"Okay, Rick, let's get him on the portable O2 and heart monitor and take him home. And take those damned restraints off."

SGA

In a crude but welcoming hut on the mainland, Teyla Emmagen accepted a steaming cup from her oldest friend. Halling folded his large frame into a chair and studied her critically. "What has brought you here at this hour, and so suddenly?"

Teyla felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, I did not realize the hour." No wonder Major Lorne had looked at her oddly when she'd requested transportation to the Athosian settlement.

"You are always welcome, at any time," Halling admonished gently. "I cannot help but be concerned when you show up unexpectedly, looking weary and careworn. Something is bothering you."

"You know me so well." She smiled at him over the rim of her cup, but she lacked the energy to sustain the façade. "I have not been sleeping well," she admitted. "In fact, I've been having the strangest dreams…"


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was barely up and Atlantis' day shift had yet to come on duty. Elizabeth Weir hid a yawn behind her hand and reached for her coffee mug. She glanced at the tired, worried people gathered around the conference table and tried not to think of the one face that was missing.

"Okay, people, what have we got? Doctor Ruiz?"

"Carson had a quiet night. The swelling in his legs is coming down nicely, so we're planning on casting his left foot this morning. The stress fractures in his right leg should heal without casting given rest and anti-inflammatory drugs."

"What about his back?" Rodney interrupted, drumming his fingers nervously on the table.

"His scans show minor compression fractures in two vertebra of his thoracic spine. There's no evidence of paralysis or spinal cord involvement. I'll do a full neurological workup when he wakes up to confirm, but at this stage I'm confident the fractures will heal completely without surgical intervention. We'll continue to manage his pain, and when he's stronger we'll begin a physical therapy regimen."

Elizabeth nodded. "Good news, all things considered. Doctor Heightmeyer?"

"I've been speaking to some of Carson's colleagues in the infirmary. None of them noticed any unusual behavior in the past few days, no emotional withdrawal, no sudden mood swings or giving away of personal items. As soon as Doctor Ruiz gives her okay, I'll be talking to Carson himself."

Rodney heaved a gusty sigh. "Unbelievable. You're as bad as Caldwell! You've already decided he tried to kill himself and needs therapy!"

Kate was unruffled by his outburst. "I haven't made any such assumption. Whether he attempted suicide or was the victim of an attack, he's going to need help dealing with the emotional fallout."

McKay wasn't satisfied. "Carson would never doubt you. If your situations were reversed, do you think he'd waste time asking stupid questions about your mood swings?"

It was Doctor Ruiz who answered. "Of course he would," she said calmly. "He's a researcher as well as a physician. He'd be methodical and consider all angles, starting with the most obvious and eliminating possibilities as he went. Doctor McKay, I know you're upset, but please understand that you're not the only one. We have faith in Carson, too, but we have to approach this rationally."

Rodney stared at her for a moment before nodding shortly and turning to the man seated to his left. "Right. So, rationally speaking, did you find anything in his quarters to explain this nightmare?"

"Not a thing, and we looked all night." Sheppard rotated his head until the bones in his neck popped, earning him several disgusted glares. "We checked his quarters, his lab, his office – hell, the whole infirmary."

Zelenka took off his glasses and dropped them to the tabletop, rubbing his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. "We scanned for unauthorized electronic devices, anything capable of sending a signal, subliminal or otherwise. We also checked for foreign substances. We found nothing out of the ordinary."

"Food?" Rodney prompted, "That awful tea he drinks?"

"Bagged and taken to the lab. Doctor Biro is examining it now and promises to have a report done this morning."

Elizabeth sighed. "Keep looking, Radek. If there's any possibility –"

"_Ano_," Zelenka replied wearily. Realizing he'd slipped into his native Czech, he corrected himself. "Yes, of course. I will review sensor logs from last night, see if there were any incoming transmissions or anomalies."

"Good. Doctor Ruiz, let's start looking at Carson's workload. I'd like you to review his recent research projects and patients, see if he came in contact with anything unusual."

"That could take a while," Carmen admitted. "Carson has a research assistant who can describe his lab work, but his patient load has been tremendous lately. He must have seen seventy patients in two days when the latest refugees arrived, and that's not even counting our people he's treated."

Sheppard leaned forward with a speculative look. "Start with the refugees. While you review the patient files, I'll start interviewing the people. Doc, can you help me set that up?"

Zelenka nodded, a faint blush on his face. It seemed all of Atlantis knew he'd been spending time with the new arrivals – one young, pretty refugee in particular.

"Very well. I know I don't have to remind you all how important this is. Carson is counting on us." Elizabeth let her gaze rest on each person for a moment before nodding. "Dismissed."

As her staff filed out, she became aware of Caldwell's presence by the door. Rodney noticed him too and lagged behind, scowling at the colonel as though he was personally responsible for Carson's condition.

"Good morning, Colonel," Elizabeth greeted, gesturing to the coffee pot.

Caldwell shook his head at her invitation. "Good morning. How's Doctor Beckett doing?"

"Stable. Unfortunately, he still isn't in any condition to answer our questions."

He nodded. "Have you found anything to suggest foul play?"

Pulling herself straight, Elizabeth looked him in the eye. "Not yet, but we're confident –"

"I came to warn you," Caldwell interrupted. "Colonel Byrd is making his recommendation official. He's asking Stargate Command to relieve Beckett of command and recall him to Earth."

"What?" Rodney exploded. "Can't you do something? You're his so-called superior officer, can't you order him not to do that?"

"No more than Doctor Weir could order Beckett in medical matters. We're scheduled to leave for Earth in two days. You have that long to find proof that your doctor isn't suicidal. After that, it's out of my hands."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: My story, The Greater Good, has been nominated for a Stargate Fan Award! Thanks to everyone who took the time to encourage me through reviews and messages.

Teyla smiled her thanks to the pilot and strode from the jumper bay with her pack over her shoulder. The nightmares that had driven her from her bed had not followed her to the Athosian settlement, and the morning had found her feeling rested and much closer to her usual, positive self. Perhaps all she had needed was to spend some time with her people, away from the noise and bustle of the city.

Deciding to check in with Dr. Weir before heading to her quarters, Teyla headed for command. She found Doctor Zelenka crouched over a console typing furiously and muttering to himself. His hair seemed even more disheveled than usual and a shadow of whiskers darkened his jaw. "Good morning," she greeted. "I see you are involved in another project."

The Czech looked at her in surprise. "You did not hear?"

"I was on the mainland," she answered, immediately growing concerned. "Has something happened?"

Zelenka took of his glasses, folded them and tapped them in the palm of one hand. "Last night Doctor Beckett jumped off the east pier. He is going to be okay," he rushed to assure her. "We are all searching for something to explain his actions."

Pushing aside her shock, Teyla gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Radek," a soft voice teased, "Don't tell me you've replaced me already." Teyla looked up as a petite woman with dark hair and wide brown eyes approached the workstation, carrying a sandwich on a plate. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Zelenka's lips and made a half-hearted attempt at finger-combing his hair into order. "I brought you lunch," she said.

"Thank you, _milacek_." Zelenka picked up a sandwich half and bit into it without enthusiasm, clearly more tired than he was hungry.

"Hello, Teyla," the young woman said shyly. Traumatized and withdrawn after escaping the culling of her planet, she had bonded with Radek and was slowly coming out of her shell.

"Klia," Teyla replied. "I hope this morning finds you well."

"Yes, thank you. I've been helping Colonel Sheppard begin interviewing the others. I hope he finds something to help Doctor Beckett."

"As do we all." Teyla nodded to Zelenka. "I will leave you to your work and check in with Doctor Weir."

"She is in her office with Colonel Caldwell," the engineer mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

As she climbed the stairs, Teyla could hear shouting coming from Weir's office. The door burst open suddenly and Caldwell strode out, nodding briskly to her as he passed. McKay was hot on his heels, intent on continuing the argument. "This is all part of some plot, isn't it? Some scheme to put the American military in charge of this mission. So what's the plan, Caldwell? Start with Carson and gradually replace all the civilians with mindless military drones?"

Caldwell stopped and turned to face the scientist. "Doctor McKay, you have a paranoid streak a mile wide. While I usually find it amusing, right now I can't help but think your time would be better spent helping Doctor Beckett."

"Oh, who are you kidding? The last thing you want is for me to find anything that vindicates Carson. That would screw with your master plan."

"Doctor," Caldwell said quietly, "There's a flaw in your logic. You're assuming I have some ill will towards Doctor Beckett. Look, after my…experience with the Goa'uld, we had several long talks. Beckett helped me come to terms with things. I respect him. More than that, I like him."

"You have a funny way of showing it," McKay groused.

"I didn't cause the situation, and neither did Colonel Byrd. All we can do is our duty, to the best of our ability. That being said," Caldwell concluded, "If there's any way we can aid your investigation, let me know. Until we depart, the Daedalus is at your disposal." The colonel looked past McKay to Elizabeth Weir, who was standing in her doorway. Giving her a respectful nod, he turned and walked away.

Rodney watched him leave with a thoughtful expression. "Huh."

Teyla met Doctor Weir as she came down the stairs. Elizabeth turned her with a gentle touch on her arm. "I was just about to go see Carson. Walk with me, I'll tell you everything we know so far."

As they passed through the door, Teyla spared a last glance over her shoulder at Zelenka's huddled form, typing away while a smiling Klia rubbed his shoulders. Teyla frowned as tiny hairs stirred on the back of her neck.

_Translation: milacek dear (I hope!)_


	9. Chapter 9

Carson woke to a soft beeping near his head. He lay with his eyes closed for a moment, comforted by the sound he knew as well as his mother's voice – a heart in normal sinus rhythm. His nose twitched at the telltale tickle of forced oxygen even as he registered the prongs of a cannula in his nostrils. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to focus. A woman was leaning over him, stroking his head as though he were a great sheepdog. "Mum?" The hair was wrong, though, and after a moment he had the right name. "Lizbeth."

Weir smiled. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

He became aware of pain, vibrating along his spine and up and down his legs, but it was muted and distant. "Hurts. What happened?" Another face moved into his field of vision, softer, duskier and older than Elizabeth's. Carson felt himself relax a bit, knowing his second-in-command would have everything under control.

"Well, it's about time you woke up," Carmen smiled. "Ready to answer some questions for me?"

"Aye, then you can return the favor." He cooperated patiently with the neuro check, telling her his name, who the president was and when Rodney was due for his next round of allergy injections. When Carmen flipped the blanket back from his feet, he started getting nervous again. "Carmen, love, I think it's time you tell me what happened."

"One moment," she replied. Taking a penlight from her pocket, she ran it along the bottom of his left foot. The foot twitched, the movement sending a frisson of pain up his leg. Carmen ignored his soft swearing and repeated her test with the other foot with the same results. "Okay," she said, straightening the blanket. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Carson frowned. "Scotland," he blurted, then shook his head. "No, I dreamed that…Um, dinner, with Victor and Maryann. I remember they were talking about their mold spore experiment."

Weir grinned. "Lovely dinner conversation."

"That's what I get for eating with botanists. Afterwards, I stopped by the lab and checked on a protein marker study I'm running, then I went to bed."

"Did anything unusual happen, anything out of the ordinary?"

"Elizabeth, you're beginning to worry me. What the hell happened to me?"

The women exchanged glances, neither of them wanting the task of relating last night's events. Weir rested a hand on Carson's arm and put on her best supportive smile. "Last night Rodney found you standing on the railing of a balcony on the east side of the city. He thinks you were sleepwalking. Carson, you jumped. Rodney had the Daedalus beam you to their sickbay. Once you were stabilized, we brought you back here."

"I…what?" Shocked disbelief was writ large over Carson's face. "No! Elizabeth, I would never…" His heartbeat increased until the monitor screamed in complaint. His chest heaved as he took in air in great heaving gulps.

Carmen frowned and stepped to his side. "Easy," she murmured. "I need you to slow your breathing, you're hyperventilating. Carson, I know this is a shock, but you need to calm down." Beckett, however, didn't seem capable of complying. His eyes widened in panic. An alarm began to shrill.

Carmen called the nurse and silenced the alarm. Pulling the oxygen cannula away from Carson's nose, she leaned down and took his face in both hands. "Carson, I'm giving you a benzodiazepine. You're going to be fine."

Within moments the medication had been injected and Beckett's heartbeat and respirations had returned to normal. Just before he succumbed to sleep, his fingers found Elizabeth's where they rested on the bed. "I didn't," he whispered as his eyes slid shut. "I didn't."

She squeezed his hand and swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "I believe you."


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: All science content in this chapter is complete and unmitigated bullshit. Put on your high boots and enjoy!_

Doctor Carmen Ruiz dropped the used syringe into a disposal box and ran a shaky hand through her hair. "Well, that went well."

Elizabeth gently released Carson's hand and laid it on the bed. "I suppose it could have been worse," she sighed. The steady rise and fall of Beckett's chest was almost hypnotic after his frightening panic attack. "Sooner or later he's going to have to deal with the fallout from this mess."

"I know, but I don't want him putting any additional stress on his body right now. He'll sleep for a few hours, and I'll have Kate Heightmeyer talk to him as soon as he wakes up."

Teyla had watched the episode from the doorway in shocked silence. She took a step in, but found she was too disturbed to approach the bed. "I will find Colonel Sheppard," she said. "Perhaps there is something I can do to help in his investigation."

Elizabeth frowned, but before she could say a word the Athosian had disappeared into the corridor. Just as suddenly, Carmen raised a hand to her earpiece. "Ruiz here." The doctor frowned as she listened. "On my way. Diane, I'll be in Carson's lab. Doctor Weir, you may want to join me."

The two women could hear raised voices well before they reached the lab. To their shock, one of the combatants was mild-mannered Rick Baker. Red-faced with fury, he was standing toe-to-toe with another man, waving a sheaf of papers and shouting accusations.

"Okay, that's enough," Carmen directed firmly. "Gentlemen, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Elizabeth stood back, content to watch for the time being. With Carson laid up, Carmen was in charge of the medical department and had the discretion to handle the staff as she saw fit. The other man, Elizabeth recalled, was Carson's research assistant, Jeff Dunne. His expression was caught somewhere between anger and distress.

Rick turned his thunderous glare from Jeff to Carmen. "This little bastard is screwing with the Chief's research."

"That is a lie!" Dunne shouted. "I used his original research as a starting point for my own, it's a perfectly acceptable methodology."

Carmen held up her hand, causing both men to fall silent. "Rick, _calmly_, please tell me what has you so upset."

The young nurse took a breath, visibly trying to let go of his anger. "I was trying to think of anything unusual that's happened to Doctor Beckett, and I remembered something. When I got off shift last night, I heard arguing in here. I usually mind my own business, but I heard the Chief and I wanted to make sure he was okay."

Intrigued, Elizabeth broke her silence. "Was he?"

"He was pissed, more than I've ever seen him. He was yelling that Jeff took his research and twisted it."

"What else?"

"That's all I heard. I asked if everything was okay, and the Chief said it was fine, so I left. But today I was thinking about it, so I came in to talk to Jeff. I found him writing this." He thrust the handful of papers at Carmen, who slipped her glasses on and read them.

"Hmm," she said. "Doctor Weir, Jeff is working on a doctorate in genetic sequencing. Carson is his advisor. At least he has been."

Elizabeth took the offered papers. They were obviously drafts, hand-written and littered with crossed-out words. The gist, however, was very clear. "You've accused Doctor Beckett of unethical behavior and requested a new advisor."

Jeff shifted from foot to foot, looking at once guilty and defiant. "It's not what it looks like," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"Tell me," Carmen urged.

Sighing, the researcher sank onto a stool and began idly pushing slides across the desk top. "We did argue," he admitted. "I just don't see what the big deal is!" he burst out suddenly. "He knew I was going to base my thesis on his work with protein structure prediction, we'd talked about it extensively."

Elizabeth put on her understanding face and leaned towards him. "So what did you argue about?"

"My research took a turn he didn't approve of. Last night I told him I wanted to change my thesis, focus on the effects of intentional disruption of protein sequences. He lost it."

"Doctor Ruiz?" Weir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He wants to study genetic weapons. Jeff, why on earth would you think Carson would be okay with that?"

"It's the natural progression of the research!" he insisted. "I thought Beckett could appreciate that. Instead he started ranting about my ethical responsibility. Like he's got the moral high ground on THAT issue."

Rick growled and started forward. Carmen stopped him with a palm on his chest. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Have you been up all night?" The nurse nodded, swiping at his eyes. "Go get some shuteye. I want you to take the night shift tonight." Rick shot Jeff a final glare and left the lab.

Elizabeth laid the papers on the desk and tapped them with a short, neat fingernail. "It looks like you're pretty angry with Doctor Beckett."

"It's not like that," Jeff insisted. "I was never going to send it. I was just trying to…I don't know, work out my feelings or something. I don't want another advisor, Doctor Beckett's the best in his field. Do you realize if his work weren't classified, he'd probably have a Nobel by now? I mean this guy could cure cancer, you know?"

Carmen and Elizabeth exchanged raised eyebrows at the ever-increasing praise. "Jeff," Weir asked, "What happened after you argued?"

"Nothing. He told me to think long and hard about the kind of scientist I wanted to be. Asked me to think about my legacy. Then he said we'd talk again in the morning, and he left."

Carmen frowned thoughtfully. "Did he actually set a time?"

"Yes, he wanted to see me at nine, right after the senior staff meeting."

"Thank you for your time," Elizabeth said with a tight smile. "We'll let you get back to work."

Jeff nodded, then picked up the aborted letter, crumpled it up and threw it in the trashcan.

Elizabeth and Carmen didn't speak until they were safely in the privacy of the CMO's office. Weir was the first to speak. "Was it me, or did he lay it on a bit thick towards the end?"

"Oh yes. Carson is certainly brilliant, but it was definitely a case of protesting too much. Mr. Dunne is being less than forthcoming with us. And there's something else."

"What?"

"Carson made an appointment to meet with Jeff the next day. If he were planning on committing suicide that night, he wouldn't have bothered."

"So either something happened after he left the lab—"

Carmen grimly finished her thought. "Or someone, somehow, made him jump."


	11. Chapter 11

Early evening found "Team Carson," as Rodney had dubbed them, back in the conference room. Kate Heightmeyer, who had spent several hours in the infirmary with Beckett, was the first to report.

"He's beginning to come to terms with what happened, but he insists he has no memory of being on the balcony or of jumping. I believe him, his distress is totally genuine."

"That's my impression, as well," Carmen agreed. "I know the man as well as anyone, and –"

"And he's a crap liar," Rodney finished. "He doesn't remember jumping, he doesn't have a death wish, can we all PLEASE agree on that and move on?"

"Agreed." Sheppard scrubbed a hand over his face and slouched in his chair. "And that means we're dealing with an attempted murder."

Elizabeth nodded. "We also have a suspect." Relating their conversation with Jeff Dunne, she added, "Both Carmen and I feel he's hiding something."

"Motive, means and opportunity," said Rodney, sucking in a great draught of coffee. "Isn't that what they always say in the movies?"

"Well, he had motive. Carson literally held Jeff's future in his hands."

Sheppard's face scrunched into a frown. "Can somebody explain this to me?"

"Dunne's an ABD," Rodney said, as though that explained everything. Radek, predictably, filled in the blanks.

"ABD means 'all but dissertation.' It means he's completed all the coursework for his doctorate but has not yet defended. We have several such candidates in Atlantis. I am advising one myself."

"Heaven help her," Rodney snarked. "The point is, a negative report from Carson could set this guy back years in his research, even send him packing back to Earth."

"And that's motive," said Sheppard.

"He had opportunity, as well," Carmen said. "As far as we can tell, Jeff was the last person to see Carson before Rodney found him on the balcony."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against one bicep. "It's the means that I can't figure out. We know he wasn't physically pushed."

"And we found no evidence of electronic devices," Radek recounted.

Sheppard scratched at his spiky hair and broke in reluctantly. "Ah, he may not be the only suspect."

"You turned up something in your interviews?"

"Nothing concrete," he admitted. "Just something that tweaked my Spidey-sense. I talked to all the refugees from TicTac –"

"Tetok," Weir corrected.

"Right. Anyway, everybody knows everybody in that group. They grew up together, the families go back for generations. Except one person." John cast an apologetic glance at Zelenka. "Apparently, Klia was found unconscious near the Stargate, with no memory of where she'd come from. She's only been with the group for about three months."

Radek's eyes had grown hard behind his glasses. "I knew this," he said, his voice strained. "She told me when we began…spending time together. I do not see why this is relevant. You said motive, means and opportunity. Klia had none of these."

"Doc, I'm not saying it means anything," Sheppard said. "It just sticks out, is all. I wouldn't want to miss anything important."

Zelenka nodded, appeased for the moment. "Of course, I understand. But Colonel, she has an alibi," he said meaningfully.

"You go, Doc," John said with a nudge, enjoying the way Radek blushed.

"This doesn't put us any closer to an answer," Rodney griped. "Hey, what about hypnosis?" The physicist cast a suspicious glare at Heightmeyer, who rolled her eyes.

"Generally speaking, you can't hypnotize people to do things against their nature, lounge acts not withstanding. In order to influence someone to that degree, you'd need months of conditioning, probably with the help of strong drugs."

"We found no evidence of mind-altering drugs in his bloodwork," Carmen reminded them. "And Doctor Biro has confirmed that none of the food we took from his room and office has been tampered with."

Weir resisted the urge to sigh in sheer frustration. "Any luck with Carson's case files?"

Carmen shook her head. "Rick and I have been going through the files of every patient Carson handled over the last two months. It's a massive project, he's very hands-on and sees as many patients personally as he can. So far we haven't found anything out of the ordinary, but we're only about halfway through. In fact, if we're done here, I need to get back and make sure Carson's settled for the night." At Weir's nod, the doctor stood and surveyed the weary gathering. "I suggest you all get some sleep."

SGA

In the quiet infirmary, Rick Baker moved to the curtained-off corner that held his boss. The Chief was asleep with the help of a light sedative. Rick checked the monitors and noted their readings on Carson's chart.

He stretched and yawned, giving himself a shake, and decided that he had officially gotten too old to function well on three hours' sleep. He poured himself another cup of coffee and returned to the duty desk, where stacks and stacks of patient files awaited him.

He couldn't help but feel that he was wasting his time. If the Chief had encountered anything major or unusual, he would have mentioned it at a staff meeting. Rick leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a while. Maybe, he mused, he shouldn't be looking for something major. Something small, routine, almost insignificant. But Carson Beckett was a researcher and kept meticulous records of everything…

"I wonder," Rick murmured. Rising, he crossed to the infirmary's far wall and pulled a clipboard from a hook. Flipping back a few pages, he found the entry he was looking for. "Bingo!"

A noise sounded behind him, a sort of shuffling thud, and he turned. "Hello?" Seeing nothing, he decided to check on Beckett again. He took three steps before something hard and heavy crashed down on his head, filling his vision with starbursts that quickly faded to black.


	12. Chapter 12

Teyla sat up in bed, struggling to grasp the unraveling threads of the dream that had been so vivid only seconds before. There was a man, one she knew and yet didn't, and the frightening feeling of suffocating. Her hand went to her throat, fingers ghosting over her pulse point, feeling the pounding of her heart as leftover adrenaline coursed through her body.

Adrenaline…

Between one heartbeat and the next she was out of bed and through the door of her room, pounding bare-footed down the corridor. She couldn't say for sure what was driving her to the infirmary, or what she expected to find when she got there. She only knew one thing, one absolute fact that made no sense at all, but alarmed her beyond reason.

The dosage was much, much too big.

She rounded a corner and spotted Ronon coming from the other direction, no doubt on his way back from a late-night raid of the kitchen. He registered the urgency on her face and changed course, wordlessly falling into step with her. "Doctor Beckett is in danger," she panted.

Ronon didn't bother asking questions, but simply increased his speed. His long, loping gait carried him ahead of her and he burst through the infirmary door seconds before she did.

Teyla was shocked to see Carson Beckett, cast and all, standing in the center of the floor. He was struggling with another man, and both their fists were clenched around a dripping syringe. She took a step forward, but before she could intervene Ronon slid his gun from its holster and took aim. "No!" she cried, but a wash of light swept over both combatants and they slumped to the ground.

"It's set to stun," Ronon said, sounding somewhat offended.

"His back is injured," she shot back, moving to the doctor's side. "Call Colonel Sheppard." Teyla pulled a blanket from a nearby bed and covered Beckett's scrub-clad body. She didn't know what else to do for him and hesitated to touch him at all for fear of hurting him

"Sheppard's on his way. I called a medical team, too," the big Satedan said, crouching down beside the still form of the fallen nurse. "This guy's out cold."

Teyla rolled the other man onto his back and carefully secured the syringe. "I do not know this man."

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Sheppard suddenly burst into the room, shirt untucked and hair even more disheveled than useful. His eyes moved from one still form to the other and grimly muttered, "Dunne."

"Done?" Teyla frowned, confused.

"His name. Dunne. Also known as Suspect Number One."

Carmen arrived and took charge of the unconscious men. After a brief examination, she ordered both Carson and Rick to be taken for scans. Jeff Dunne was deposited on a bed, and Sheppard immediately placed him in restraints and set Ronon as a guard.

Teyla handed the syringe to Carmen. "They were fighting over this, but I do not know what is in it."

Stepping to the open drug cabinet, Carmen ran her eyes over the contents until she found an empty vial. She double-checked the level in the syringe and blanched. "It's epinephrine," she said, clutching the vial in her fist. "Almost thirty mils."

"Fatal?" Sheppard asked quietly.

"Twenty times over," came the answer. "Please tell me what the hell happened here tonight?"

Teyla opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly realized she wasn't sure.

"This guy was going after Beckett," Ronan cut in.

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Teyla, you agree?"

"I…am not sure," she admitted. "They were struggling over the syringe, but I don't think Dunne was trying to harm Doctor Beckett."

"Why not?"

For a moment she was at a loss, and then suddenly she understood. "I had a dream."


	13. Chapter 13

_His skin was covered with itchy hives. He scratched at the side of his neck and huffed in annoyance. The old allergy didn't pop up very often since he'd mournfully given up crab legs, but once in awhile a bit of shellfish would be lurking in a recipe and he'd have a mild reaction. It must have been the soup, he decided. The corporal in the mess had sworn there was no shellfish in the chowder, and that was the last time he'd believe the word of someone who didn't quite look old enough to shave._

_No matter, these attacks were uncomfortable, but not dangerous. A generous dose of antihistamine would fix him right up._

_He was halfway to the drug cabinet when the tickle began in his throat, and within two steps his airway began to close. Panicked, he staggered the remaining distance and turned the key in the lock with shaking hands. Antihistamines wouldn't do it now, he needed adrenaline, and quickly._

_He found the bottle of epinephrine and stripped the wrapper from a disposable syringe. His breath whistled thinly, as though he were sucking air through a coffee stirrer. Squinting against the spots dancing before his eyes, he drew half a milliliter into the syringe._

"_That's not going to be enough, lad." A hand closed over his, drawing hard on the plunger. His darkening gaze was suddenly filled with a familiar face – Donuch Munro, the man who had made his first year of residency an absolute nightmare. Long days and sleepless nights made life difficult enough for a budding doctor without adding a supervisor intent on criticizing his every action. "You've not done your homework, have you? Skipped the reading again!"_

"_Too much," he wheezed, his voice lost in the battle for breath._

"_I continue to be astonished at the new depths of incompetence you consistently plumb," Munro sniffed. Grasping the wrist that held the syringe, Munroe lifted it in front of his face._

_It contained .5 ml._

"_Would you like to continue arguing, or would you rather save your patient?"_

_He blinked at the syringe. The dosage remained correct. His airway closed completely. Carson shifted his grip on the syringe and held it out to his side, needle aimed at the large muscle in his thigh._

SGA

"Are you back with us?"

Teyla opened her eyes and blinked. Across from her, Kate Heightmeyer regarded her with patient concern. "I am well," she finally announced. "But very confused." With the help of Kate's hypnosis, she'd remembered the dream that had sent her to Carson's side. But how could she dream of things she had not experienced?

"I'm pretty confused myself," Sheppard announced from where he leaned against the wall. "Since when are you having Beckett's dreams?"

"I have not been sleeping well for the last few nights," Teyla admitted. "However, I have not remembered any details until this evening. How can this happen?"

"I'd like to know what Dunne's role in all this is," Sheppard stated. "He ought to be coming around any time now."

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. "Shall we adjourn to the infirmary?"

SGA

Carmen Ruiz met them at the door with her report. "Carson's scans indicate he didn't exacerbate his injuries, but this is definitely not going to help his recovery. I've increased his pain medication to keep him comfortable, so he'll be out for a while yet. Rick has a concussion, but no skull fracture and no sign of complications. He hasn't regained consciousness yet."

Jeff Dunne, however, was awake, and protesting his restraints energetically. "Doctor Weir, thank God," he called. "Can you please tell these people to let me go? I haven't done anything wrong!"

It was Sheppard who addressed him. "I don't know about that. Teyla and Ronon walked in to find you fighting with Beckett. That doesn't exactly earn you the good neighbor award."

Dunne made an exasperated sound and flung his head back against the pillow. "How many times do I have to tell you people? I don't want to hurt Doctor Beckett!"

"So what happened?"

"When I walked in, Baker was on the floor and Beckett was standing in front of the drug cabinet with his ass hanging out of his gown. I knew he shouldn't be out of bed yet, so I called him. He didn't even blink – I don't think he heard me at all. I got closer and saw he was holding a syringe." Dunne shook his head. "Man, there was something wrong with him. His eyes were weird."

"Weird how?" Sheppard prompted.

"Distant, like he was looking through me. I was standing right in front of him, talking right in his face, and I don't think he knew I was there."

The similarity between Dunne's description and Rodney's earlier account weren't lost on those listening.

"All of a sudden he raises the syringe –"

"Like this?" Teyla asked, holding her fist out to the side.

"Yeah! I didn't know what was in it, but he wasn't in any state to be medicating anyone, so I grabbed his arm. He's stronger than he looks," Dunne, who was probably ten years younger than Beckett, admitted ruefully.

Kate had stepped to the side and was conferring with Doctor Ruiz. A moment later, Carmen moved to Beckett's side and began attaching soft restraints.

Elizabeth felt a lump rise in her throat. "Doctor?"

Heightmeyer was frowning, a sure sign she was worried. "Based on what I've heard here, I think Carson is a danger to himself."

"Wait a minute," Sheppard drawled, "yesterday you agreed he didn't have a death wish."

"And I stand by that judgment. But something is compelling Carson to harm himself against his will. Whatever it is, he can't protect himself against it. We have to do it for him."


	14. Chapter 14

Carmen Ruiz looked up from the stack of case files and cast an assessing eye over her patients. Carson was still deeply asleep thanks to his pain medication. Rick was beginning to stir. Slipping off her reading glasses, she rose from the duty desk and made her way to his side. "Rick? You back with us?"

The young nurse groaned and blinked heavily. "Oh, my head hurts," he whispered. "What hit me?"

"That's still under debate. Up for a quick neuro check?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he muttered. The dreaded penlight made its expected appearance.

"Pupils look good. Symptoms?"

"Little nauseous, no blurry vision."

"Want some compazine?"

Rick started to shake his head but immediately thought better of it. "No, it's not too bad."

"Can you tell me your full name, the date, the president? You know the drill."

He didn't respond for a moment, and Carmen was growing concerned when his eyes suddenly widened. "I can tell you more than that. I just remembered what I was looking at when I got brained."

"You found something in the charts?"

"Not in the patient charts. On the A and I report."

Carmen stepped to the far wall and pulled down a clipboard, detouring back to the desk to fetch her glasses. Flipping through the pages, she stopped at one and read, then tapped her radio. "Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Weir, can you come to the infirmary, please?" Receiving an affirmative, she turned back to her nurse. "Do you know what this means?"

"No," Rick said as he fumbled for the bed control and raised himself to a sitting position. "I just know it means _something_."

When Sheppard and Weir arrived, Carmen showed them the clipboard. "This is the Accident and Injury report. We call it the A and I. Anytime a staff member is injured, even slightly, we fill out a report. As you can see, Carson filled out an A and I three days ago for a needle stick."

"Which is?" Weir prompted.

"Exposure to someone else's blood from a used needle. It happens to most health care workers over the course of their careers."

"Whose blood was Beckett exposed to?" Sheppard asked.

Carmen dropped the clipboard on the desk and slipped her glasses off. "Klia's."

Sighing, Weir folded her arms over her chest. "So what are we thinking? That something in Klia's blood is affecting Carson's behavior? Forgive me, Doctor, but that seems a little far-fetched."

"I know, but if you have other avenues to pursue…"

"Fair enough. What do you suggest as our next step?"

"We have to compare Carson's blood sample with Klia's, and hope we find a commonality. If we do –"

"If we do, " Sheppard interjected, "We confront Klia."

Weir nodded. "Put your best researcher on it."

"Doctor Weir, the best researcher for this is Jeff Dunne."

Sheppard screwed up his face. "You wanna have one suspect look for evidence against another one?"

Carmen shrugged. "Someone else could probably do it, but not in the time frame we're facing." They were all aware of the Daedalus' looming presence on the south pier and what its departure could mean for Carson Beckett.

"Do it," Weir ordered with a sharp nod. "Be sure Mr. Dunne understands the urgency of his research. And call me as soon as he finds anything."

A soft sound of distress caught their attention. Carson was waking up.


	15. Chapter 15

_AN: Make I take a moment to say how much I really, really hate FFnet? Posting problems are pissing me off so much that once this story is done, I don't think I'm going to post here anymore. I do have an account at Wraithbait, same name._

Carmen was at his side before he was fully awake. "Carson, it's okay, take it easy."

Cloudy blue eyes blinked up at her, and a slight moan of pain emitted from his lips. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and trickled down Carson's nose. He reached up to wipe it away – only, he didn't. A distressed whine rose in his throat as he jerked restlessly against the restraints.

"He's not quite awake," Carmen said. "Relax, Carson, you're all right. Easy…" She sighed and motioned to a nurse. "I'm going to sedate him again, I'm really worried he's going to aggravate that spinal injury." She leaned over her patient and carefully captured his chin, forcing his roving eyes to his face. "I know you're scared, but you're going to be all right. We're going to figure this out, and we're going to keep you safe. Just relax and go to sleep, and when you wake up everything will be better." She took the syringe from the nurse and injected it into the I.V., then talked gently to Carson until he drifted off.

Carmen leaned heavily against the bed rail for a moment. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Weir's sympathetic eyes. "Sorry," Carmen breathed. "I just hate putting him through this."

"This has been hard on you," Elizabeth said. "He's not just your boss."

"He's my friend, and the best man I know," the doctor confided. She took a breath and straightened. "I'll go speak to Jeff."

"Doc, can you spring me?" Rick called from his bed.

"I'm tempted to keep you here and observe you for a few hours."

"I can rest just fine in my quarters," he countered, "and Cindy'll check on me when she gets off shift. Right?" The pony-tailed nurse smiled and nodded, showing no reluctance whatsoever in paying a visit to Rick's rooms.

"Okay, but take it easy, understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Rick slid carefully out of bed, reached for his clothes and drew the privacy curtain with a practiced flick of the wrist.

Twenty minutes later he was hiding in a doorway, watching Doctor Ruiz leave Jeff Dunne's lab. He craned his neck and watched until she'd disappeared around a corner, then slipped inside.

Dunne had a rack of blood-filled test tubes and a flat of slides on the lab table before him. He responded to the new arrival without looking up. "Whatever it is, it's gonna have to wait. This has got priority."

"I know," Rick said, stepping forward.

Jeff looked up and held out his hands, "Whoa, man, I do not have time to get into it with you again."

"I know," Rick repeated, "that's why I'm here. I want to help."

Dunne studied him for a moment. "How's your head?"

"Hurts like hell."

Nodding, the researcher nodded to a stool. "Okay. Two heads, and all that. Let's get to work."

SGA

They worked through the rest of the day. For the first hour they suffered constant interruptions from people wanting updates and reminding them that come morning, the Daedalus would leave for Earth with Colonel Byrd and his damned recommendation. Rodney stopped in to pester them three times. Eventually they appealed to Elizabeth, who promptly put a stop to it.

Dinner came and went. Outside Atlantis' walls, the sun went down and bathed the city and surrounding water in moonlight.

Rick was taking yet another dose of Tylenol when Dunne exclaimed, "Got it!"

"What?" Dunne leaned away from the microscope and gestured for Rick to look. The nurse stared at the sample for a moment in puzzlement. "What the hell is that? It doesn't look organic."

"It's not, but whatever it is, it's in both samples," Dunne announced. "We need Doctor McKay."


	16. Chapter 16

"It's nanotechnology," Rodney announced, studying the magnified image on the computer screen. He, along with Weir, Sheppard and Ruiz, had been called to the lab in light of Dunne's discovery. Carmen had spared a disapproving glare at her nurse, and Rick knew there would be a reckoning for his disobedience. For now, though, everyone was focused on the anomaly in Carson and Klia's bloodwork.

Elizabeth leaned in and squinted at the microscopic object on the screen. "Can you tell what its purpose is?"

"I have no idea," Rodney muttered, but his fingers were already flying across the keyboard. "It's not giving off energy or radiation. It doesn't react to any stimuli I can think of, and it totally ignores the Ancient gene. Where the hell is Radek? He isn't answering his radio."

"Rodney?" Sheppard drawled with a hint of alarm. The others followed his gaze to the computer screen. The nanite, previously floating dormant in the sample, had begun to move, spinning rapidly.

McKay studied the readouts. "What the…now it's giving off energy."

"I hope I'm not intruding." Teyla said from the doorway. "I wondered if there was any news."

"Teyla, go back out in the hallway," McKay ordered. The Athosian raised an eyebrow, but did as she was bidden. "Keep going," Rodney called. "Farther, farther – stop!"

The nanite was still.

"May I reenter?" Teyla called.

"Yes, yes, come back in."

By the time she passed the threshold, the nanite was rotating again.

"Oh my," Rodney said. "That is interesting."

"It responds to Teyla's presence," Weir frowned. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"It means we're probably dealing with Wraith technology." Sheppard glanced at Rodney for confirmation.

"He's right." Rodney put a hand to his chin and put his brain to work. "Klia somehow gets this nanite from the Wraith, then arranges to pass it on to Carson during a checkup. A little bump or twitch at the right moment, and he's a stuck pig."

Carmen shook her head. "You're saying these nanites were able to control Carson's actions?"

"Of course not, they're tiny little machines, they don't have any psychic abilities." McKay's face lit up. "But the Wraith do. Under the right circumstances, they were able to influence Teyla. The nanites must allow them to do the same to Carson, only they need help. They need Teyla to act as some sort of catalyst, an amplifier, if you will."

"Why would the Wraith target Carson?" Ruiz asked.

"That's not important right now," Rodney dismissed. "We need to find a way to disable or eradicate these things."

Teyla was pale. "My presence is harming Doctor Beckett. I should leave for the mainland immediately."

"I don't think that's necessary," Ruiz said. "Carson is safe, there's no way he can hurt himself."

Sheppard tapped his earpiece. "Lorne, have a security team meet me at…where is Klia liable to be?"

"Chez Zelenka, most likely," Rodney said.

"Have a team meet me at Zelenka's quarters."

Weir put a hand on Sheppard's arm. "John, we don't know that Klia has any blame here. She may not know about the nanites. She could be as much a victim as Carson is."

"I'll tread gently," the colonel promised.

"And tell Radek to get his ass out of bed, I need him here," McKay called as Sheppard left the lab.


	17. Chapter 17

Sheppard met his men outside the door to Radek Zelenka's quarters. Lorne was there, the colonel having caught him up via radio on the way. "How do you want to play this, sir?"

"By ear, Major. I'm still not sure if she's part of a plot or an innocent victim."

"We'll find out, sir."

"Yes we will," Sheppard agreed. He reached out and activated the Ancient equivalent of a door chime. It took a moment, but then Klia answered the door, sleepy and buttoned up in one of Radek's shirts.

"Colonel Sheppard?" she yawned, finger-combing her messy hair. "Is something wrong? Is it Radek?"

"He's not here, I take it?"

She shook her head. "He said he would be working late. To help Doctor Beckett."

Sheppard peered past her into the darkened room. "Franklin, head down to Zelenka's lab and send him to Biomed. And tell him to put his damned radio on. Lorne, close your mouth before you catch an Iratus bug." His second-in-command shut his jaw with a snap and managed to drag his gaze away from Klia. Radek was not a tall man, and on Klia his shirt left what seemed like miles of curvy leg exposed. "You mind if we come in?"

Klia looked confused and a little alarmed. "All of you?"

"No, just Lorne and me. The rest of you, wait out here." Sheppard and Lorne followed her into the room and waited while she ducked into the bathroom to put on some clothes. "Sorry to wake you so late," the colonel called. "It's kind of important."

"I understand," the woman said, emerging and seating herself on the battered couch. "What can I do for you?"

Sheppard took a moment to look at her carefully guileless face and wide, helpless eyes, and then he knew. He'd seen that expression before, if not on this face. "You can tell me why the Wraith sent you here to kill Carson Beckett."

If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he might have missed the way her eyes hardened before they flared wide with shock. "The Wraith? Colonel, the Wraith slaughtered my people. I was lucky to survive!"

"Save it," he said abruptly. "I've run into your kind before. Tell me, do you actually believe the Wraith are gods, or do you just figure it's better to be a servant that dinner?"

"We know about the nanites," Lorne said. "We know you were supposed to infect Beckett so the Wraith could control him through his dreams."

"What we don't know," Sheppard continued, "is why. Why do the Wraith want Beckett dead?"

Klia's expression had slowly darkened during their accusations. Her pretty face was twisted by the calculating, hateful look she threw at them. "Beckett has committed crimes against the Wraith and must be punished," she spat. "Beyond that, he is the single biggest threat we face, the most dangerous human in this galaxy."

Lorne was as stunned by her pronouncement as he was by her sudden personality shift. "Beckett? Little guy, afraid of his own shadow?"

"Don't be dense, Major," Sheppard snapped. "Beckett's work is the most effective weapon we've found against the Wraith. He's probably the key to defeating them."

"You will never defeat them!" Klia was smiling, the gleam of a fanatic in her eyes. "With the doctor dead, you will have no defense. Your city will fall to the Wraith."

"Yeah, there's just one problem with your plan," Sheppard drawled. "Beckett's alive, and I intend to see that he stays that way."

Her smile grew wider and very, very cruel.

Sheppard felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His eyes searched the room, checking every surface and shadow, until they lit on the bedside table. He felt the blood drain from his face even as he lunged across the room and grabbed her by her arms, shaking her so hard her head flopped back and forth like an infant's.

"Where is he? Where's Radek?"

Klia laughed, totally unmoved by his threatening posture. "You are too late!" she crowed. "You are already too late to save him!"

Sheppard thrust her away with enough force to topple her onto the bed. "Send a security team to the infirmary, now! And lock her up," he directed Lorne.

"Sir, what—"

Sheppard scooped up the objects that had caught his attention and held them out for the major to see. Radek's earpiece –

and his glasses. Both men knew the Czech was practically blind without his glasses and would never leave his quarters without them, _in his right mind. _

Sheppard hit the corridor running.


	18. Chapter 18

_Radek had never actually seen an Iratus bug, but he'd read the mission reports and seen the damage they could do. It was therefore completely beyond him why no one was helping Carson._

_He could see its wings shifting slightly, its underside expanding with a slow, hypnotic pulse. He swallowed hard, equally repulsed and fascinated, and took a small, sliding step closer. The last thing he wanted was to go anywhere near that…thing, but his friend needed him._

_Carson was unconscious, pale but for twin spots of fever high on his cheeks. If he was aware of the creature attached to the soft flesh of his neck, he gave no sign. Radek took a deep breath and reached a shaky hand towards the defibrillator. _

_Like everyone else on Atlantis, he'd been trained in its use but had really hoped to keep that knowledge firmly in the realm of the theoretical. He turned the dial to 400 and gingerly picked up a paddle, squirting gel on it and rubbing it against its twin._

_Carson chose that moment to awake, squinting and licking his parched lips. "Radek," he muttered groggily, "what're ye doin'?"_

"_Don't worry," Radek soothed, holding up the paddles. "I'm going to help you."_

_The insect's bite must have been terribly painful, because Carson began to scream._

"NO! Radek, don't!" Sheppard tore down the corridor towards the infirmary, Beckett's hoarse pleas driving his feet.

As long as he lived, John Sheppard would never forget Zelenka's determined face, oddly child-like without its glasses, as he pressed the defib paddles against Beckett's chest. The doctor struggled helplessly against the restraints that bound him to the bed, twisting and shouting in panic.

Sheppard threw himself across the infirmary, catching Zelenka in a flying football tackle and bringing them both to the floor in a sprawled heap. The defibrillator discharged with a loud thump.

Beckett fell silent. Zelenka began to howl.

SGA

McKay and Sheppard walked into the infirmary, only to stop short when they realized Beckett's bed was empty. Rick Baker noticed their arrival and met them at the door.

"Is Carson okay?" Rodney asked, craning his neck to see around the room.

"He's much better. In fact," the nurse said, frowning with obvious disapproval, "he's in with Doctor Zelenka."

"How's Radek doing?" Sheppard couldn't help but feel guilty – in taking him down, he'd broken several small bones in the Czech's left hand. Not to mention he'd just kicked the poor guy's girlfriend through the Stargate, sans luggage.

"Not so good, actually. He's in a lot of pain, more than he should be given the meds he's on. The Chief thinks he might need surgery, but he's getting a second opinion."

At that moment the Scot's voice sounded from behind a drawn curtain. "Rick? I need you, son."

Baker grinned, reveling for a second or two in the familiar summons from his beloved Chief. "Excuse me," he said, nodding to them before ducking behind the curtain.

"Well," Rodney said, looking vaguely put out, "I guess we were wrong to worry about him being bored."

"Guess so," Sheppard agreed. "Man, I hope Radek's okay."

The curtain was flicked back. Rick was pulling Radek's bed out of its bay and steering it towards another room. Carson was seated awkwardly in a wheelchair with both his legs elevated, bent over a tablet computer. Next to him, down on one knee and pointing to various parts of the readout, was Lt. Colonel Dennis Byrd, M.D. Rodney's formidable forehead drew down in a frown.

"Thank you, Doctor Byrd. Sarah will show you where you can scrub, and she and Rick will assist you in the OR." Byrd nodded, turned on his heel and followed the nurse out of the room.

"Carson? What's going on?"

Wheeling himself in their direction, Carson yawned. "Radek's going in for surgery. Will you lads help me back into bed? I could use a wee nap."

Rodney grabbed the chair's handles and pushed Carson towards his bed at a speed entirely too fast to be comfortable. "I think I can speak for Zelenka when I say he'd rather you do the surgery than Lt. Colonel Jackboots over there. I don't think he'd mind waiting."

"On the contrary, he'd mind a great deal." Carson lowered the footrests of his chair and planted his uncasted leg on the floor. With one friend levering each elbow, he rose to a standing position and hopped until his bum made contact with the edge of the bed. Dragging himself up, he carefully swung his legs up and began the process of stuffing pillows under them. He lay back with a grateful smile when Sheppard took over. "Thank you, Colonel. I'm jeeked."

"I'm guessing that means tired, and I'd say so given that you've ceased speaking English. Do you think you can focus long enough to tell us why Colonel Klink is operating on my scientist?"

Beckett sighed, squirming a bit to get comfortable. "Radek has developed compartment syndrome. He has swelling in an enclosed part of his hand that's putting pressure on his nerves and blood vessels. It's a very serious condition that can lead to amputation if it isn't addressed quickly, so there's no time to waste. And frankly, even if I were up and about, I'd still ask Doctor Byrd to perform the surgery. He's much more experienced in neuromuscular procedures than I am."

Rodney had paled considerably. "Amputate? Oh my god—"

"You're not to panic, now, Rodney," Beckett cut in sternly. "We've caught it very early on. He should make a full recovery and have complete use of his hand in no time."

That seemed to lay McKay's fears to rest, as he uttered a soft, "huh" and went back to snarking. "If it were anyone but Byrd."

"Honestly, he's a very competent doctor. Not very imaginative, but then again, he's military." Carson grinned widely, enjoying Sheppard's double-take and offended 'hey!' "So, what's been done with Klia?"

"We sent her through the wormhole to a planet that's frequented by the Wraith. They'll pick her up before too long." Sheppard decided to spare Carson the details of the arguments that had taken place over the young woman's fate. He was still not convinced they shouldn't have killed her.

Carson's face went soft with sympathy. "Ach, poor Radek. To have feelings for the girl, and have her use him so badly. She really did a number on him."

Rodney was incredulous. "On him? Have you looked in a mirror lately? She didn't exactly shower you with good fortune, either."

The doctor shrugged. "I suppose so. You know, there's one thing I don't understand. She had plenty of opportunity to kill me herself. Why the elaborate suicide setup?"

"It wasn't enough for you to die." Sheppard had spent some very unpleasant hours interrogating Klia, so he knew the twisted logic behind the Wraith plan. "They wanted to discredit you, so your work would die with you."

Beckett pondered that, his gaze turning inward. "I'm starting to remember a bit here and there," he said softly. "My mum in the water, turning into a Wraith. Perna, Elia, so many others…"

McKay gave him a jarring shove to his shoulder. "All thanks to our friendly neighborhood space vampires and their nasty little nanites, which, by the way, I have completely disabled. From now on, any nightmares you have will solely be a product of your own haggis-muddled mind."

Grinning, Beckett shook his head and shoved back, ignoring the scientist's subvocalized 'ow!' "Carmen told me how hard you all worked to help me. Thank you both for having faith in me. You're true friends."

For a moment they shared a silent communion, simply glad that their little family was not going to be broken up. Then it got embarrassing.

"I'd say I'm more like a casual acquaintance," Sheppard pondered.

"Yes, and I'm more of a tolerant colleague, really," added McKay, nose in the air.

"Argh! Get out of here, the both of you, and let me get some sleep!" Beckett grumped, but a smile reclaimed his face as the two men left the infirmary, still arguing over whether they were benign affiliates or indifferent associates.

Carson snuggled into his pillow and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long while, he slept without dreaming.

End


End file.
